The Grudge

Curled up on her thick pile of furs, Iolaire cried into them. Tears of utter frustration. She had just wanted a fucking snack. Tears of anger. All of the ones that she trusted had betrayed her. Tears of exhaustion. Sleeping two to three hours per day wasn't something that you could get used to. Iolaire was definitely at a low.

The soft, hesitant tones of Roan met her ears and Iolaire almost snarled at him. She wanted to say, 'Yes, you can get out,' but the physician in her wouldn't allow it. Instead, she grit her teeth and buried her face deeper into the furs. She'd left the best of them in the wagon since Roan had needed a bit of padding. If someone tried to claim her oxen pelt, she was going to be furious. A tiny demon. There was no way that she was going back out there to find it now, however.